Genius on Irk
by MissMune
Summary: Finally deciding to hit the problem at its source, Dib heads off to Irk, but comes to find that maybe the Irkens aren't so bad, after all...
1. A Pain in the Neck

A/N: Yay! Yay for me getting off my lazy butt and writing something _other_ than an oneshot! You are surely amazed?

Ah, so, anyway, this was all inspired by Weird Al's song "Genius in France". Yes, I get inspired a lot by Weird Al. He's very…inspirational. So, if you know the song, you should pretty much know what this fic entails.

I'm always surprised at how little I have to say about my own stuff, seriously. Anyway, according to my plans, this fic should be about 13 chapters, which _is_ a bit longer than Crazy Talk, since I know some of you found that too short. Didn't cha? Though, there may be a chapter more, or less, depending on how stuff goes.

Oh, and, yeah, Dib's older here. In "hi-skool". I _guess_ that's about it…mm…yep…

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader ZIM or any of the corresponding characters! I know, I know, it's a shock to me, too.

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The sound of lasers filled the ears of a young man, as he ran - ran _insanely_ away from a creepy green house. Whether he was actually being chased by lasers or not was another question, entirely. He had grown so accustomed to sneaking in there, being kicked out, then being attacked by lasers that he just naturally assumed he was being fired at.

Just an average day for Dib.

Today, however, was different, as the young man reflected on, happily. Today, ZIM hadn't been in his terribly disguised base. For what was doubtlessly a stupid reason, he had left his mentally unstable robot, GIR, in charge of protecting the house for the day.

Needless to say, the little robot had failed _miserably_.

In his mind's eye, Dib recalled sneaking into ZIM's house this particular day…

---

He had dodged around the gnomes, as usual. They didn't seem to notice him. Dib had an idea that their circuitry had somehow malfunctioned after that lighting storm last year. It certainly didn't bother _him_, however. He had snuck into ZIM's more often this year than any other time before. He knew it was only a matter of time before he got some irrefutable evidence of ZIM's alienness.

What Dib _didn't_ know, however, as he flipped skillfully through the perpetually open window of ZIM's house, was that the evidence he had been seeking would come into his possession that very day.

Contradicting the fact that Dib had done this many times before, the young man landed painfully on his face. He recovered quickly, however, jumping up and looking around the oddly proportioned living room. GIR had been there, playing with some strange looking brown package.

He seemed oblivious to Dib's presence.

Long ago, Dib had learned he had nothing to fear from ZIM's crazy mongoose-dog thing. In fact, GIR seemed to help him out more than he hindered him. Several times he had let him in the house. Today didn't seem that different.

"Hey, GIR!" Dib said, waving to the little robot.

GIR immediately went into duty mode, dropping the box and pointing to Dib, "Intruder!" he yelled. Dib stared at the robot for a moment, and GIR stared right back at the young man. They kept this position for a moment, before GIR suddenly relaxed back into his cyan mode and cried, ecstatically, waving one of his little hands back and forth, "HI!"

Now that the formalities had been taken care of, if they could really be called that, Dib was all business. Furrowing his brows, he looked around for anything that he could steal from ZIM's abode, and use it to expose him for the evil alien that he was. Because…you know…he _was_.

After a moment's searching, Dib's eyes fell upon the brown box that GIR had resumed playing with, batting it around the room with cat-like movements. "Woo," Dib muttered, looking at the box as though it were something extraordinary, "What's that?" He asked, pointing to the package.

"I DUNNOOO!" GIR squealed, holding it over his head and bouncing up and down.

Dib stared at the package for a moment. A white tag on it read, "To: ZIM, From:," but the sender's name was obscured by GIR's pinscher-like hands.

"Uh," Dib said, looking around, trying to find the correct words for what he was about to say, before turning back to GIR, "Can I have it?"

"OKEE DOKEE!" the insane robot cried, before chucking the object at Dib's head, hitting him square in the forehead.

"Ow…" Dib said, managing to catch the object as it bounced off of his head.

---

Yes, he had had _quite_ a time getting this, uh, this…_thing_.

Dib slowed down to a walk, _What **is** this thing, anyway?_ He couldn't help but wonder, as he looked down at the package for the first time since he had fled ZIM's house.

Nothing seemed extraordinary or unusual about it. Just what Dib needed, to steal something like a cheese-log that ZIM had ordered from the Cheesecake Factory or something.

This thought was quickly dispelled, however, as Dib took a closer look at where the package had came from: "The Tallest".

"Hey!" Dib said aloud, "Those are the two really tall guys that run ZIM's planet!" He paused, he still thought that choosing someone by _height_ was a stupid way to pick a leader.

If _Earth_ chose its leaders by height, then basketball players would rule, lording over them with their, well, _tallness_.

_Then again_, Dib considered, clearly amused by the thought, _If leaders were chosen by height, then maybe **I'd** be a leader. I **am** pretty tall…_

And, indeed, Dib was. He had grown quite a bit over the past few years; he had even grown into his abnormally sized head. That didn't stop people from commenting about it, however, especially ZIM. It seemed the little alien couldn't come up with any new insults, and he felt morally insulted that Dib had grown so tall, while he had remained so short. He needed _something_, and the "big-headed" comments were the only thing he had to lean back on.

But, Dib supposed, that was beside the point. The thing in this box was obviously some horrible alien device! Used to…do something! Something _horrible_! And, with it, he would finally have the evidence he needed to _prove_ that aliens existed!

…And that he wasn't crazy!

Looking fondly down at the box, Dib said affectionately, "You, my little alien device, are going to take me off of the Crazy House for Boy's ten most wanted list."

Shifting his eyes around wearily, Dib rushed inside of his house, which he had arrived at without even being aware of it.

He wasted no time sticking around out in the living room, with _Gaz_. Instead, he rushed up the stairs to his room, shutting his door roughly behind him, throwing the equipment he had brought with him to ZIM's on his bed.

Quickly, he cleaned off any unneeded materials from his desktop, and carefully placed the box down, as though it were to be some sort of display piece, instead of something to be opened. Dib stared at it with a fierce intensity for several moments but, unfortunately, since he lacked x-ray vision, this accomplished nothing.

Finally, he gave up staring at it for a much more direct approach: actually opening it.

Taking a deep, almost shuttery breath, Dib slowly began to rip open the box, careful not to damage the contents within. Not that he thought he would, Irken technology _generally_ seemed pretty hardy, but one could never tell.

Then, it was open on the side, and, looking like a child on Christmas day, Dib poured the contents of the package out onto his hand. The first thing Dib noticed was the object's surprising weight. The second was how there seemed to be absolutely nothing fantastic about the object. At all.

It appeared to be a thick, coiled, ring, made out of an extremely dull-looking metal. The ring was about as wide as someone's wrist, and wasn't completely closed all the way around. There was a small opening between the sides of the ring, that could doubtlessly be widened.

Dib could only stare blankly at the object's blandness for a moment, before wondering what the heck something such as this _did_, anyway. It certainly didn't look like it was the height of advanced technology.

It just looked like an oversized _ring_.

A ring that just sat limply in the palm of Dib's hand, as his face slowly contorted into a scowl. This thing _had_ to do something. It just _had_ to. And he would figure it out, too!

With new determination, Dib began to examine the ring more closely, looking into the inner edges, and the gap between the two sides of the ring. There, Dib saw the first traces of technology.

Small circles could be seen between the large gap of the ring. What they did, Dib could only guess, as he leaned back in his flexible computer chair, holding the ring right above his face, trying to make out more details.

There didn't seem to be anything _more_ about it, though. He was just about to give it up, and try again later, perhaps with a microscope, when, suddenly, an angry cry came from downstairs.

"DIB!" his scary sister's voice reverberated though his room, causing Dib to release the ring from his grasp out of sheer shock.

"_DIB,_" it repeated, much closer this time, much to Dib's horror. "_WHERE IS MY GAMESLAVE?!" _Gaz demanded, bursting into her brother's room, uninvited.

Dib raised his eyebrow, looking slightly confused, "Uh, Gaz, you left it on the washer yesterday when you were in the laundry room," he said, adding, "When you were, er, doing whatever you do down there."

Gaz blinked, fury instantly gone. "Oh, well it _better_ be down there, _Dib_," she hissed dangerously, as she moved towards the door. She was halfway through before she turned around and said, off-handedly, "And you should take that thing off your neck. It's way too cool for _you_."

Then, she was gone, leaving Dib considerably more confused than when she had entered. "Leaving her stuff somewhere and blaming me," he muttered to himself, bending down to look for where he had dropped the ring, "Honestly she-"

"Wait," he said, shooting up, wide-eyed, "What thing on my neck?"

Automatically, his hands reached for his neck, feeling for the offending object. Sure enough, there _was_, in fact, something around his neck. Oddly, though, it felt like it was only on the right side, not the left, and, even _more_ disturbingly, it felt like it actually went _into_ his neck.

Worried that it was some sort of new defense mechanism ZIM had set up, to make up for his increasingly pathetic gnomes, Dib rushed out of his room, and into the bathroom, forgetting all about searching for the ring.

Breathing heavily from panic, Dib held his head over the sink, not quite ready to look at the _thing_, whatever it was, around his neck yet. Taking one long, deep breath, he looked up at the bathroom mirror, staring it shock.

There, around the right side of his neck, was the dull, metal ring. "How did?" he murmured, pulling on it before immediately stopping. To his dismay, he saw that he hadn't been incorrect; the ring _did_ go into his neck. Trying to get it out would be too dangerous.

He would just have to find out what the ring did from experience.

"Great…" Dib groaned, touching the ring lightly. This wasn't what he had been expecting at all.


	2. Left to His Own Devices

A/N: Whoo, I gotta tell ya, I like this chapter SO much more than the first one. It just seems so much less….forced? Maybe? I dunno. It was just more fun to write after about the third page. After that it was just…neat… Yep. And I updated it! Finally, my lazy streak is over! … Or at least has a temporary reprieve! Whooo! ...Yep…Eh…well…enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader ZIM like whoa!

For those who have never slept with an alien device protruding from your neck, it should be made clear that it's not a pleasant experience. It's one of those things you can only find out through actual experience, as Dib did that particular night.

Every time he moved, the device would chaff him, on the _inside_ of his neck. Needless to say, the paranormal investigator got very little sleep that night, and woke up looking very irritated.

Quickly, he dressed and headed downstairs. Despite the fact that he had gotten little sleep, he had also woken up late, and didn't bother eating breakfast that morning, not that it was likely that Gaz had left anything for him, anyway.

He paused briefly to scowl at the thought, before grabbing his backpack and rushing out of the house.

It wasn't a long way from Dib's house to the hi – skool, but it was long enough for him to think about how the heck he was going to get this _thing_ (whatever it was) _out _of his neck. Last night, he had considered cutting it off, using a blowtorch to melt it off, and using technology to deactivate it.

Dib had, in turn, eliminated all of those options: cutting it off would be too dangerous, melting it off would just be _stupid_, and he had no idea how the ring _worked_, so deactivating it wasn't an option.

Painfully flustered, Dib let out a resigned sigh as he entered the high school. He would just have to figure it out later, he thought, skulking over to his locker, and shoving his backpack in it haphazardly. It didn't really matter, since he didn't have a locker partner.

Dully, Dib pulled out the books he needed for the first few hours of the day and headed off towards math class.

He arrived just before the bell rang. Of course, Dib seriously doubted if his teacher, Ms. Laetitia, would have noticed. She only seemed to be interested in herself. And, this was why half of the class poured into the classroom half a minute after the bell had rung.

Dib had been right, she _hadn't_ noticed.

Rolling his eyes, he walked over to his desk, and slumped down into it. Shuffling through his things, he suddenly became aware that someone was staring at him. Irritably, he looked up. It was ZIM. Duh.

The shrimpy Irken was glowering at him from across the room. Oddly enough, they were in almost the exact same seats that they had been in when they were in elementary skool. Only, now, all desks faced towards the center of the room (Ms. Laetitia wanted to be the center of attention) and the two now stared directly at each other.

Dib glowered back, but only for a moment, as Ms. Laetitia finally seemed to realize that she wasn't alone in the classroom, anymore. Swiftly, she stood, and moved out from behind her desk.

In a word, Ms. Laetitia could be described as 'regal'. She was a tall, lean woman, with a sharp, haughty-looking face. Her bright, pinkish-red hair was done up into a bun on the top of her head, held in place by a rather fancy-looking clip. It appeared to be rather expensive.

Of course, everything on Ms. Laetitia seemed to be rather expensive. Her immaculately pressed suit, her spit-shined shoes, and her jewelry that was so lustrous that they almost appeared to glow. She looked almost like royalty, and expected to be treated as such.

Needless to say, she wasn't a very popular teacher.

"Class," she said, sharply, looking at the class with a slight smirk that suggested she was planning something horrible for anyone that didn't have their homework finished. "Pass your homework to the front of the classroom."

Quickly, everyone in the class passed the work to the front of their rows, while Ms. Laetitia walked around the classroom, picking up the piles. However, she suddenly paused in front of Dib's row, looking down at the pile. She was a math teacher; she realized that there was one less paper than there should have been in the pile.

Silently, she shuffled through the papers, before looking up to a sleepy girl behind Dib. "Reem," she snapped, causing the girl's head to jolt up, "You haven't finished your homework?"

The girl looked over to the side, shiftily, "Uh, no. You see Ms. Laetitia I was busy an-"

Ms. Laetitia stuck out a hand in front of her, signaling Reem to be quiet. "No need to explain," she said softly, walking confidently back over to her desk. "You can just spend the day in one of the underground classrooms, and think about why you shouldn't be _busy_ when I ask you to do something."

"Bu-" the girl started, before her desk abruptly dropped down, reemerging a moment later with no trace of her.

Yep, Ms. Laetitia was not a popular teacher.

The class stared at her in shock. Ms. Laetitia seemed to notice this, and scoffed. "She should be lucky I was so lenient. I won't be so forgiving _next_ time."

Nobody said anything, as Ms. Laetitia resumed collecting the math assignment she had assigned yesterday. The unnaturally _long_ math assignment that she had assigned yesterday. Dib honestly couldn't blame that girl for not finishing. As he recalled, she was better at English, anyway. _Ms. Rio's gonna be pissed_, he thought, yawning. She was one of her favorites.

Ms. Laetitia began one of her math lectures. Her long, painful, nearly incomprehensible, math lectures. She had a talent for that. In all likely-hood, this woman could find a way to explain '2+24' in a way that was impossible to understand.

Dib allowed his head to slowly slide onto his hand, staring forward. That was when he noticed that ZIM was still glowering at him. Actually, glowering at his neck. He was about to say something, when the stupid little Irken chucked a paper ball at him, barely missing Ms. Laetitia.

It hit Dib square in the forehead, causing ZIM to emit a soft chuckle. The paper-ball recipient scowled, and he uncrumpled it. It was probably some sort of threat about 'DOOM', as usual. The two had taken to chucking threatening letters at each other.

In all honestly, Dib thought his threats were better.

However, this note didn't appear to be threatening…kind of.

_Filthy…stinky…**DIB** creature, _it read.

_I will rain **doom** down onto your_ -

Dib paused, scrolling down the note, to see if there was anything worth reading in it. Probably a sentence that didn't contain the word 'doom'.

_Though I am amazing, and already possess a **vast** amount of knowledge things that your feeble meat brains could NEVER comprehend YOU PATHETIC WORM BABY! ZIM WILL RULE YOUR PUNY DIRT CLOD IN A MATTER OF- _

It went on like this for a while. Finally, it seemed to end.

_MwhaahaahaHAAA…ha… Ahem._

Leaving Dib wondering why ZIM had bothered to actually write his laughter _into_ the letter. Shrugging, he continued.

_ZIM DEMANDS to know where you attained that Irken cloaking device… Not that he doesn't already KNOW. He just wants to know if YOU know._

_Now we're getting somewhere_, Dib thought, grinning.

_ZIM's amazing collection of ASTOUNDING...ly…GENIUS_ _devices is lacking in this. GIVE TO ZIM. _

_I will destroy you,_

_ZIM_.

The letter ended on a pleasant note, Dib thought sarcastically.

As quietly as possible, Dib ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook, and pretending to write a very long note.

In reality, however, he only wrote one word: _No_.

Swiftly, he chucked the paper at ZIM's head. Unfortunately for Dib, however, Ms. Laetitia chose to turn around as it was flying through the air. She glared at him.

"Am I boring you Mr." Ms. Laetitia began, but paused, "Mr. … Mr. …Whateveryourlastnameis?"

Dib immediately focused on his horrible teacher. "Ah, no, Ms. Laetitia," he muttered, quickly. He paused, looking over at ZIM, whose reaction to the letter was to shake his fist vengefully at Dib.

"_However_," Dib continued, as Ms. Laetitia started to walk away, "I _would_ like to go to the bathroom."

The math teacher gave him a dark look.

He quickly added, "To…ah…make sure it's…_safe_ for you. Yeah."

"Oh," she said, looking rather flattered, "Well, alright, then."

And, before Ms. Laetitia could realize that they didn't use the same bathroom, Dib was out of the door.

Grinning widely at having escaped the math classroom _and_ at having found out what the device around…_in_ his neck was, Dib practically skipped to the boy's restroom. It was in the middle of the class period, there was no one in the halls, no one in the bathrooms. It was completely quiet, which served Dib's purposes just fine.

He wanted to test out this 'cloaking device'.

Not bothering to be quiet, he entered the bathroom, and ran out in front of the large mirror behind the row of sinks. Taped to one of the faucets, he noticed, was a warning about washing your hands. That didn't appear to be possible, however, as there was no soap in any of the dispensers.

The condition of the skool bathrooms was astonishing.

That wasn't important right now, though. What was important was figuring out how to work the device, now that he knew what it did. Dib looked over the device, carefully, in the mirror. There were no switches that he had not seen before.

_Voice activation…Thought activation?_ He thought, poking it.

"Er, ah..." he said, feeling rather silly, "Disguise…activate?"

At first, there was nothing. Then, suddenly, a tinny voice sounded from the device, vibrating his neck in an irritating fashion. "Choose species."

"Uh…" Dib said, looking to either side of him, "Irken?" What else was he supposed to say?

More silence, then, "Irken species disguise found. Processing."

That was when things became blurred, lines of code dashed across Dib's eyes, and everywhere else across his body, making an annoying grinding, chirping sound. It almost sounded like the modem for an extremely old computer.

This continued. And continued. And _continued_, until Dib didn't think he could take it anymore. Of course, once someone thinks that, the annoyance almost always stops, in a terribly convenient way. This device was no different, and it left Dib with the thought of why that was.

"Disguise complete," the tinny voice said, reverberating through Dib's neck. That really was getting annoying.

Carefully, he opened his eyes, which he realized he must have shut somewhere along the line. There, in the mirror, was an Irken. A rather tall Irken, which resembled Dib in many ways. This was likely due to the fact that it _was_ Dib.

"_Whoa_," Dib said, mouth agape as he stared at the flawless disguise. He really did look Irken, he noticed. It was rather, well, disturbing. Still, it was only a disguise, probably a holo-disguise, like Tak's.

Slowly, Dib's now three fingered hand made its way up to his antennae, which was bent oddly, much like the way his scythe had been. He touched one of them gently, and shivered; it felt real.

Panicking slightly, he felt his face. He felt no nose, or ears, as he watched his light purple eyes follow his hands has he traced the contours of his face. This was just a _little_ bit too real for him.

"D-deactivate Disguise!" he shouted, anxious to get the disguise off.

Silence, then, the tinny voice said, "Eh, okay," making Dib raise an eyebrow. The lines of code returned, flowing backwards. The sound seemed to be going backwards, as well. Finally, all was silent, and Dib waited a moment before looking back into the mirror.

His own, human, reflection stared back at him, and Dib breathed a sigh of relief. It really _was_ only a disguise – a really, _really_ good one.

_Though_, he thought, heading out of the bathroom, towards his classroom, _Seems kind of stupid for Irken technology to be able to disguise another species as an Irken. I mean, some one who opposed them could just disguise themselves as an Irken, infiltrate Irk, and destroy it from the inside_.

Yep, it sure was stupid, his thoughts stopped, before his body followed suit.

"Wait! _I _could do that!" he suddenly exclaimed, just as the bell rang. Quickly assuming a heroic stance, he continued, "I, Dib, will protect Earth by-by…doing that thing I just thought!"

"_Crazy_," some kid muttered, as they passed Dib, and his freakish neck ring.

"Uh…yeah…" Dib said, looking to either side of him, before slinking back towards Ms. Laetitia's room.


	3. Fold Up and Leave

A/N: This one took so long to write. I wrote the first FOUR pages one day, and then I couldn't find the stamina to write the last two for the past couple of days. Still, I managed to post a new chapter before a week was up! Which is what I intended to do from the start…even though there was a large gap between chapters 1 and 2. I hope that won't happen again.

Ah….not much else to say, me thinks…

Disclaimer: I think we ALL know that I don't own ZIM but….you can insert something that contradicts that previous statement here.

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"And I'll need th_iiis_…thing," Dib said, holding something metal in his hands as he ran hastily down the stairs, twisting off the banister at the end so that his trench coat fluttered wildly. He carelessly tossed it onto a pile of goods that was slowly accumulating at the base of the stairs. Piles of books, electronics, food, water, everything was slowly tumbling down their respective stacks. Dib didn't really seem to notice, though, as he flew up stairs for more stuff. Stuff that he probably didn't need.

"What are you _doing_, Dib?" Gaz said, from behind the couch. Her face was shoved into the glowing light of her GS3. She almost appeared calm. The only thing that gave her away was the irritated tick on the side of her face.

"Can't talk now, Gaz," Dib said, racing down stairs, chucking something into the pile, and racing back upstairs, before coming down again. "Saving the world stuff."

"Pfft," Gaz snorted, "Is that why you're leaving Earth?"

Dib stopped mid-step on the stairs, pausing for a moment, before deliberately turning on the ball of his heel. "There's more than one way to skin a cat, Gaz," he said, defiantly using an old cliché.

At this Gaz snorted, clearly amused. "I know," she said. Unbeknownst to Dib, she was grinning.

He detected her tone, however. "Uh, yeah…." He said, backing away towards his stuff. His foot hit the pile, and in a split second, he had bent down, grabbed a stack, and dashed out to the garage door.

Grinning insanely, he pulled it open. He was pushed back slightly from the force that he had opened the door with, but that was fine. He was almost ready. Just a few more things to grab!

Again, he chucked the supplies haphazardly on the floor of the garage, and ran crazily back into the house. During his crazy running spree, he failed to notice that he was about to collide with something soft, and lab-coat-y; his dad.

"Son?" the figure said, as Dib pulled away, head reeling.

"Oh, hey Dad!" Dib said, still smiling.

His father looked at him appraisingly, "Son…you're not hiding any vampire pig babies under your bed again, are you?"

"No I-" Dib started, before pausing, giving his father a profoundly confused look, "What? No." He shook his head, "Listen Dad," the teenager took a deep breath before blurting out, "I'mgoingtoanalienplanettosavetheworldandIdon'tknowifI'mcomingbacksoifIdon'tthenIwantyoutoknowIloveyou."

Dib said all of this very quickly, and without taking a breath. Beads of sweat fell down his face out of nervousness. He didn't know what his father would say.

Membrane looked at his son like a deer caught in headlights. The two stared at each other for one long, tense moment.

Silence.

"Well, have fun!" he said, waving his hand and moving past his teenage son, who sighed. A little relief was contained in it, but it was more of total dejection. His father either didn't understand, or didn't care.

Dib stared out into space for a moment. The only sound in the room was the soft beeping of Gaz's gameslave, and the slow tumbling of objects off of their piles. A camera rolled down a pile of electronics, landing with a quiet 'clink' against Dib's boot. He blinked, and shook his head. He didn't have time for this.

With renewed determination, he continued to carry the piles of junk to the garage, where he would load them into Tak's – _his_ – ship. Half way out the door, however, he heard Gaz stand up. Immediately, Dib stopped, whipping around so fast that a piece of metal flew off and nearly hit him in the head.

That was when he beheld something strange. Gaz was carrying a pile of stuff, and was walking for the door. Not towards the garbage disposal, or some fiery thing, no, toward the door. It took Dib a moment for him to realize what she was doing. She was _helping_ himGaz was helping him. _Gaz was HELPING **him**_

Gaz seemed to realize he was staring at him. She growled. "_What_, Dib? I just want you to _leave_." She paused, thinking, "I can turn your room into a gaming center."

Dib quirked a brow at his sister, before bursting out in laughter. Figured. That's all she cared about: gaming and pizza.

He had dawdled in the doorway too long, though, and Gaz had moved up behind him, "_Hurry up._"

"Oh, believe me, I am," Dib muttered, shuffling out of the doorframe and to the garage. He could hear Gaz stomping behind him, as he dropped the stuff down. Gaz did, too, more roughly, less carefully.

"That it?" she asked, squinting at the ship without interest.

"Pretty much," Dib said, "I think I'm going to leave tonight. And then I'll be going through…_around_ the stars. Just think of it, Gaz! I'll be seeing things no other human has ever experienced! You won't even be able to imagine the thing's I'll-"

"Be quiet!" Gaz snapped, though she didn't leave the garage. Dib stared at her. She seemed like she was going to say something. No words came out of her mouth, and Dib moved to continue.

"Don't be _stupid_," she finally said, before glaring at Dib, and storming out of the garage.

"O…kaaaay…." Dib said, shrugging and turning back to his piles of stuff.

Sighing, he began the tedious task of putting all of the stuff into the ship. It was in the silence of the garage, as the sun set, that he started having some doubts. How would Earth be with out him? Would ZIM take over? Would, would….would something _happen_? Something…_bad_? Bigfoot could come back!

His gaze shot over to a belt sander in the corner of the room. There was a video camera watching it. Dib glared at it. Oh, he would catch him someday…

Suddenly, his hands met air. Just air. All the stuff was loaded into the ship. "Oh…." He said, blinking. "Neat! Now, all I have to do is ask ship if he knows the coordinates to Irk, get them, go there, do…_stuff_, and come back! …And….stop talking to myself…."

He stood there blankly. Blinking once, before jumping into the cockpit. "Ship!"

"Hey, Dib!" the ship said, in Dib's own voice, just slightly more tinny. "What'll it be today? Loch Ness? Amityville? The moon? That one spooky place with the moose?"

"No…computer," Dib said, shaking his head, "Today, it's Irk!" He grinned.

The ship was silent.

"You…you _do_ know the coordinates to Irk…right?"

"Uh…actually…" the ship said, slowly.

Dib groaned, where was he going to get the coordinates to Irk at this hour? …Or ever?

Staring at the monitor, he thought. And thought. And thought. Before pausing, then thinking some more.

_Unbelievable, I have an Irken disguise, all sorts of stuff packed, a ship that communicate with other aliens in alien languages and yet I can't-_ His thought broke off.

"Oh…wait!" Dib said, aloud, slapping a hand against his forehead. Why did he always go through that train of thought before he arrived at the obvious, anyway?

"Disguise…uh…activate," Dib mumbled. His neck ring buzzed, and he immediately shut his eyes, trying to block out all of the random numbers. It didn't work. He still saw them on the inside of his eyelids. It hummed, and hummed. Plugging his ears only made it worse. He could only wait it out.

Finally it stopped, and he groaned. It took a moment for him to recoup, and there was just no way to adjust to the way three fingers felt, as he typed in a few commands on the ship's control panel. It was awkward and though the ship was _designed_ for three fingers, Dib had a hard time coordinating them properly. After all, it felt like he was missing two fingers.

His fingers kept hitting the wrong keys and he had to keep backspacing to retype them correctly. Dib's eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to type correctly. He was almost done with a particularly long command when he accidentally hit the delete key.

For a second, Dib stared at the screen, before he felt his false antennae lower in frustration and anger. Needless to say, that did nothing to improve his mood. "Come on!" he cried, "Can't you just-just…do that command I typed in?"

The ship hummed for a moment. "Okay!" it said, and the screen in front of Dib went fuzzy as the call was transferred.

The antennae shot up in shock, and Dib was severely tempted to hold them down.

Just as he started bringing his hands up to his head, however, the fuzziness on the screen cleared, revealing a very irritated looking ZIM.

Dib blinked, and snapped his hands downward so fast that he thought he might have hurt something.

"_Yoooou_," ZIM said, pointing to Dib accusingly. He looked slightly taken aback.

"W-what?" Dib said, looking at ZIM nervously.

"Do you have know what INGENIOUS work you have inter_-uppppt-_ed?" ZIM asked, glaring at Dib coldly. He didn't wait for an answer, "The INGENIOUS work of the _AMAZING _ZI-IIIIIM!"

Dib blinked, and stared. "Ah…" he started, rubbing the back of his head.

ZIM continued to glare at him, making loud "HMM?" sounds.

"Anyway," Dib said, as though they had been continuing a conversation, "You're the only other," he paused, "Uh, _Irken_ that I've tracked in the area and, ah…"

ZIM quirked a brow, "And you want help from the clearly SUPERIOR ZIM?" he finished.

Dib frowned, and he felt his antennae move down once again. _Stupid things_, he thought.

"HMMMM??" ZIM prodded.

"I suppose, yes," Dib said, disliking the way the words felt in his mouth. "Listen, all I need is for you to-"

"ZIM will give you no-"

"Give me the coordinates to Irk."

"…Assistance?" ZIM trailed off, looking rather shocked.

Dib quickly covered his lack of knowledge of something that every Irken undoubtedly knew, "You see my, ah," pause, "My _pak_'s memory circuit was damaged in the, uh, the…big…spacey…battle."

Dib finished, but ZIM still looked at him as though he was crazy.

"…With lasers," Dib added.

"_Ooooh_," ZIM said, as though that last statement had made everything perfectly clear. "You're a war hero?"

Dib blinked again, "Sure?"

ZIM shook his head in pity, as though Dib was a senile old veteran. "_FINE_ the _STUPENDOUSNESS _of ZIMwill tell you!" he said. "It's-"

And ZIM proceeded to tell Dib where his home planet was. Dib immediately typed it into his ship.

"Well…thanks?" Dib said. He never thought he'd say that word to _ZIM_.

ZIM waved a hand out in front of him as though it was nothing. Though, he suddenly paused, "Say, tell ZIM your name."

Dib paused, "Um…Oh _no_, the connection is breaking up!" The connection didn't break up. "Uh, I _said_ the connection is breaking up?"

"Huh? O-_ohhh_," the ship said, and the transmission cut out.

Suddenly very tired from the day's events, Dib fell back into the seat. He yawned, "Let's go, ship."

The ship made loud, mechanical sounding noises, before bursting out of the garage. It seemed to go very fast, up into the atmosphere. Past the people, the buildings, the clouds. Dib couldn't help but find it relaxing; he always did.

For the first time, he realized, shifting in his seat, it felt extremely comfortable. He wondered why this was, as he bent forward again. Twisting his body around, he looked at the seat carefully and realized that there was a large indent right where the center of his back would be.

At first, he didn't realize what it could be for. Then, slowly, he moved his hand to his back. Yep, there was a fake pak there. Why hadn't he realized _that_, anyway? It would have been bad if he had landed on Irk without a pak. Fake or no. The only thing he had to worry about is if they decided to check his pak, for some reason.

"Disguise deactivate," Dib said, through another yawn. He found it wasn't as bad this time. Well, it was still awful, but it was better than before. Even just a little bit.

But what was the likelihood of that?


	4. Food for Thought

A/N: Well, Mune is officially an IDIOT. Seriously, I am. During the last chapter, I said that Dib still had his pak on while he DIDN'T have his disguise on. That is SO wrong. That was my mistake. He did NOT have it on, when his disguise wasn't.

You can all beat me over the head with sticks now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader ZIM, but if I did, I would.

That is all.

----

"And you remember that one time? With the haunted fork? I can't believe that it _actually_ was that guy!"

Four days. For four days, Dib had been drifting through space. For four days, he had been thinking about what would await him on Irk. And, for four days, he had been listening to the ship drone on about Dib's own memories.

"_Yes_," Dib muttered tiredly. Listening to his own memories was much more boring than he would have thought. "They _are_ my memories."

"What?" the ship said. It had continued droning even while Dib was explaining that he did, in fact, remember that one time. "Oh, yeah. And, anyway, the _other_ other time. You know the other time that was similar to the _other_ time but wasn't? Yeah, _that_ time was-"

Dib's eye twitched irritably. One couldn't say that he was an irritable person, but listening to countless memories, some _repeated_, for four days, running on low sleep, could get to anyone.

"_SHIP_," Dib suddenly said, "Would you _please_ be-"'

"Hey!" the ship suddenly interrupted its own speech, "We're approaching a planet!"

"Ship, I don't ca-" Dib began, before stopping mid-way, "What?"

"A planet. We're approaching one," the ships rephrased.

The irritated look on Dib's features disappeared instantly. "Really?" he said excitedly, "Is it Irk?"

"Let me see…" the ship said. Humming could be heard throughout the cockpit of the ship. Not a mechanical humming. _Actual_ humming. The ship was humming an annoying elevator tune while it analyzed the information.

Dib sighed.

"Ah, here we go!" the ship said, ending the humming much to Dib's relief. "It's a planet called 'Foodcourtia'."

"Foodcourtia?" Dib repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. It's the Irken snacking planet!" the ship said brightly.

Dib blinked. Wow, Irkens really liked their snacks, didn't they?

"But, I guess there's no REAL reason to stop there," the ship continued, "So, where were we? Oh yeah, the chicken/flute monster."

And that was all Dib could take. "Uh, no, let's stop here!"

"Why?" the ship asked.

"Be-uh-because… I can…study…Irken…snacking…behavior?"

The ship was silent for a moment before…. "OK! Be sure to tell me what happens!"

"Yeah…" Dib said, as the ship entered the planet's atmosphere. Almost immediately, the passed at least five signs advertising a place to park. None of them sounded too….good. Eventually Dib decided on "Crazy Bob's Destroying Lot" which guaranteed that all ships were "Returned in Like New Condition". Though this may not have seemed like a good idea, this was by far the best choice.

"Disguise activate," Dib muttered quickly, trying to get his disguise on before they landed. He was almost getting used to it, at this point. That wasn't to say that putting the disguise on was _enjoyable_ by any means. It was just tolerable.

The ship searched for a parking space without any help for Dib. It was harder than Dib would have expected, especially with all of the other alternatives. Finally, they found one near the back of the parking area.

Almost immediately, a rather short Irken hovering on a platform pulled up next to them. "Five monies," he, because it obviously was a he, demanded, holding a hand out.

"Umm…" Dib said, realizing for the first time that he had absolutely no alien money. That could pose a problem.

The Irken shook his hand impatiently.

"Er…"

"Do you have monies or not?" the Irken said, glaring at Dib, though it was obvious that he couldn't see him through the tinted windshield of the ship.

Dib looked nervous. He hadn't expected to pay right away. Or…ever…really. He probably should have. After all, _why_ wouldn't Irkens use money like humans? There was nothing he'd seen to suggest otherwise…

"Look, you're going to have to leave if you can't pay," the Irken said, now sounding very irritated.

"Uh, listen," Dib said, opening the cockpit, "I don't have any…_monies_ right now but…"

The Irken glared at him.

Sweating lightly, now, Dib stood up and jumped out of the ship. He towered over the Irken. "But I can-"

The Irken's eyes immediately widened as Dib came into full view. "No," the Irken said, shaking his claw back in forth, "Don't say anymore. You can go right ahead."

Being about ready to run for it, this sudden change in attitude nearly caused Dib to have a heart attack. "What?" he gasped.

"Oh yeah, sorry to inconvenience you, sir," the Irken said, "Want a ride to the front of the parking deck?"

Dib's mouth was slack for a moment, before he shook it off, "Well, yeah."

"Hop on," the Irken commanded, pointing to the hovering platform. Dib did so. "So, what brings you to Foodcourtia?"

Dib blinked at the question. Was that a normal thing to ask for someone coming to a snacking planet? "Uh…snacks?" He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh. Oh, of course."

The platform continued to move forward in silence. Scores of all sorts of ships whizzing by them. The Irken was obviously unfazed, like he saw it every day. Which he probably did, Dib thought.

To Dib, though. It was amazing. Proof of the thing that he'd been trying to prove for YEARS was now a constant assault on his eyes. It was a rather huge culture shock, and he hadn't even got out of the _parking deck_, yet.

"Well," the Irken said, upon arriving at the front of the parking deck. It really didn't take very long. "Have a nice day, sir. Thank you for using Crazy Bob's Destroying Lot!"

Before Dib had a chance to ask who _exactly_ 'Bob' was, the platform was already hovering away. He was all alone, left to explore a planet he had never even _heard_ of before.

For a moment, he could only stand there. Whether he expected something to happen or not, he didn't know. The point was, nothing did. He was forced to shrug and walk away.

He had only taken a few steps before he walked right into an alien, the species of which he was completely unfamiliar with. It was kind of gooey, purple, and very short. It almost looked like a kid. And it was pointing at him accusingly.

"Uh, hi?" Dib said, waving his false claw shortly.

It continued to point at him, mouth open.

"Um…" Dib said, backing away from the kid, "I'm going to…go…now…."

The kid didn't say anything, but continued to point at Dib as he walked away, speeding up to get away from the weird little alien.

Looking nervous, and slightly shifty, it was no wonder that several aliens looked at him as he entered the main square of Foodcourtia. Or, they may have looked at him because he looked like he was about to pass out, which he almost did.

Dib was shaking slightly, out of the sheer shock of having all sorts of strange aliens around him. Sure, he had always known they existed, and that this day would come someday but…it was still shocking. Very, VERY shocking. He seriously doubted that very many people would be able to handle this. He had been preparing for this for his _entire_ life, and he wasn't ready….

Apparently.

He needed to sit down.

Just for a moment, he decided. He would just sit down for a moment. That was all. The closest place was a restaurant called "Shloogorgh's". It actually reminded him of MacMeatie's in a way…except that this place's mascot was a vomiting alien. There was a help wanted sign in the window.

_Wonderful_… Dib thought, entering the building. He noticed that he had to pass through a red laser, and he wondered why it was there.

To the human's dismay, he found that this place, too, was stuffed with aliens. Aliens screaming about their "fried doody-doo" or something like that, anyway. Whatever it was, it didn't sound too appetizing to Dib, who sat down in a free booth.

Sighing, he placed his head onto his arms, which were on the table.

Finally, a moment of peace before….

"Hi-ya!" someone across from him said in a loud, annoying voice, "Mind if I sit here?"

Dib felt his antennae pull closer to his head in annoyance, "No," he grumbled.

"Hey, you alright? You look about as good as I did, after all those times people tried to kill me!" the someone sitting across from him, said. "I mean, I'm ok now but…" He was silent, and Dib could tell that he was looking at him. "Uh, anyway, what's your name?"

"Dib," Dib muttered, muffled through his arms.

"Dib?" the someone said curiously, "That sounds like that one person that ZIM was-"

Dib's head shot up, "ZIM?" he said, getting a look at the alien for the first time. He was an Irken, and he was short. Short _and_ ugly. "I don't know anything about ZIM. Who says I do?"

"Well, no one, I guess," the Irken said, "It's just that-"

"_ZIM_?" another voice said, from inside of the kitchen. It was much deeper than the voice of the person he had just met.

Dib groaned. Why did he have to be associated with _ZIM_ as soon as he landed on an alien planet?

"He should still be _working_ here!" the voice continued, stomping out the kitchen, and moving next to Dib and the person he had just met.

"Uh, yes, that's ni-" Dib said, trying to get out of this conversation.

"Hey, you talking about ZIM?" another random alien jumped it, "He blew up my lab!"

"He killed Tallest Miyuki!"

"He killed Tallest _Spork_!"

"He ruined Mission Impending Doom I!"

"He created that hideous BLOB monster!"

The accusations continued, and Dib was slowly inching his way towards the door.

"And you say you KNOW him?" someone else said, pointing to Dib.

"Uh, yes." Glares. "Uh, but I _also_…hate him," Dib stated.

"What'd he do to you?" the first person he met asked.

Hundreds of moments flashed before his eyes, but eventually he decided on… "He turned me into bolo-" Would they know what bologna was? "Um, a meat product."

There were several gasps from the aliens. "_Harsh_," someone cried.

Dib nodded, and looked around nervously.

"And do you remember when he caused Horrible Painful Overload Day?"

"Yeah, I remember that!"

The conversation continued on without Dib, and he fled out into the busy square yet again.

Breathing heavily, the human walked quickly away from Shloogorgh's and towards anything that _wasn't_ Shloogorgh's.

Maybe it really wasn't a good idea to come to this planet. After all, it wasn't actually his destination. That was Irk. He was just wasting time here.

He shook his head. He should head back to the docking area and continue on with his mission. He really didn't get any new information…except that everyone hated ZIM and that he was a total moron. But he already knew the latter.

Where was he to go from here, anyway? He wondered. After all, he knew what he was supposed to do but…how to do it? He didn't even have any Irken monies… He frowned. How was he going to _get_ monies?

Dib stopped in the middle of the square, and turned to look back at Sloogorgh's, help wanted sign still in window.

"Oh no," Dib said aloud, shaking his head back and forth, "_No way_."

----

"Hello, my name is Dib, welcome to _Shloogorgh's_."


	5. Monies Well Earned

A/N: Whoa, update? Yes, an UPDATE.

It's shocking, oui? 

Hmm, that reminds me, I should be doing French homework. Ah well, this was more fun.

Thumbs up

So, yes, I have nothing to say, except, er, some swears in this chapter. But this is rated T, anyway, so, you know.

Mmm…yep. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Despite how many of you may think this….Invader ZIM doesn't belong to me. Shocking, I know.

---

So, here he was, flipping the equivalent of grease-ball burgers on some strange alien planet that he had never even _heard_ of the day before. Half of the stuff he was, er, 'cooking' he was sure was toxic. "Vort dogs? Fried doody-doos?" What the heck _was_ this stuff?

And it didn't help that the customers were absolutely _horrible_. Dib almost wanted to say that they were _worse_ than those people on Earth that were stupid enough to buy their 'food' at MacMeaties.

"I've been waiting here for three galactines!" a particularly freakish looking customer yelled. "And I have places to be!"

Dib groaned.

That was it. _This_ right here. If this didn't prove that he was insane. If he wasn't insane for taking a job on an alien snaking planet – a fast food job – than everything else in the universe was. And by that logic, he wasn't sure who was insane anymore. He just knew that the train of thought was giving him a head ache.

"_Ay!_" the customer called angrily, "Don't groan at me you stupid _IRKEN_!" The alien slammed its hands or, rather, globs that looked like hands, against the counter. "You're entire stupid EMPIRE is going to go down? You hear me? Even if I have to do it myself with my bare HANDS."

"How can I not? You _are_ screaming at me," Dib muttered to himself, before punching some numbers into the cash register. "And you don't really have hands." He tacked the sentence on quietly.

"Yeah, that's right!" the glob-like alien said, looking stupidly proud of himself for no reason that Dib could think of. Maybe he liked being a jerk to people. That would make sense. Yep, sure would. Or about as much sense as anything ELSE around here.

Still, this was probably one of the worst experiences of his life. Or it _would_ have been, had his life not been filled with hideously terrible experiences.

At this, Dib stopped to think. In name, anyway. He was still working, handing food off to customers, punching in numbers, and the like. But, it wasn't as if that took a lot of brain power. He had only been there a few hours and he had already mastered it. From the look that some cashiers at fast food places gave you, you would have thought it was brain surgery or something.

It really did give him time to think, though. About how, exactly, he was going to take down the Irken empire, anyway. He hadn't quite - hadn't quite thought up an exact plan yet… Oh, but he would! He would! He always thought up a plan to defeat ZIM, didn't he?

Of course, that was quite different from bringing down an entire empire…. And ZIM was an idiot. Surly the leaders of Irk weren't idiots.

…Right?

Dib stared blankly ahead, expecting something to pop out of no where and prove to him that the leaders of Irk weren't idiots.

He didn't get that.

Instead, he got some raving lunatic storming into Sloogorgh's.

_Awesome_.

Well, ok, so he didn't seem all that crazy at first. He had walked in quite calmly actually, observing the menu and waiting his turn. Nothing out of the ordinary (if anything about this situation could be considered that). Dib wouldn't have even noticed him if it weren't for _one_ teeny, tiny strike against him:

He was Dwicky.

"_YOU_!" Dib suddenly yelled, pointing at the only other human on the planet (well, probably, anyway).

"Me?" Dwicky said pointing to his chest and raising an eyebrow at what he believed to a disturbingly tall Irken.

"Yes _you_!" Dib snapped, now ignoring his customer, who was screaming at him to get his ass in gear and go cook him something that resembled one of those little pie things that come in the small paper boxes. Dib, however, could care less about this.

The man stared blankly back at him before giving another "…Me?"

"Yes _you_!" Dib growled again. "Give me back my camera, you bastard!" 

Dwicky blinked, "Wow, I haven't heard anyone use that term for a long time!" He said brightly.

Amazing. _Amazing_ at how stupid this man was. "I. Don't. _CARE."_ Dib snapped, attempting to scramble out from behind the counter. "Just give me back _MY_ camera!" 

Much to Dib's irritation, the former school counselor chuckled. "Well, I think it would help if we were introduced to each other, first. I'm-"

Dib shook his head and held the bridge of his nose, but hit nothing but smooth skin. That was right, he _had_ no nose. "I _know_ who you are! YOU ruined my chances of proving that ZIM was an alien!"

"…Who?"

That was it. That was the last straw. This man had practically ruined his life and he didn't even _remember_ him? "_ZIM_ the _alien_? The one I, DIB, tried to stop?" Dib was trying to convey this very simple thought feverishly, waving his hands in anger.

Dwicky stared blankly at Dib for a moment before whispering, "_Alien?"_

"…Yes…_alien_," Dib repeated dully. Had Dwicky been this dumb when they were on Earth? It seemed impossible that he had been. After all, the man _had_ tricked and then backstabbed him.

…What a great counselor _he_ had been.

Dwicky let out a short bark of laughter, "Oh, boy, aliens don't exist!"

At this, Dib could literally feel his brain exploding. "_Are you insane_?" he practically screeched, grabbing Dwicky and directing him towards the largest crowd of aliens he could find.

"Great costumes, guys!" the man said, giving a phony smile and a thumbs-up.

The aliens looked at each other in confusion. Some even backed away from Dwicky as though afraid of the completely oblivious man.

"…You can't be serious," Dib said, anger having dissipated into complete and utter bewilderment.

"No, really! They're nice! Maybe a little corny but-"

And that was where Dib had to interrupt him. "Those aren't costumes," he stated bluntly.

Dwicky blinked, "…What?"

"…Those aren't costumes. Those are real aliens, eating in a real alien restaurant, eating real alien food."

For a moment, Dwicky looked as though he was going to laugh. But, instead he looked around nervously before suddenly shouting, "OH MY GOD! THIS - this is an ALIEN FAST FOOD RESTAURANT! And the aliens, they EAT here!?!"

"…Yes…" Dib said, quirking his brow. Why was Dwicky freaking out _now_?

"ALIENS!" Dwicky shouted again, grabbing Dib by the head and showing him the aliens. "Real _live_ aliens! Eating real _live __**aLiEn**_ food!"

"Er-yeah…"

"And _you_!" He burst out, suddenly pointing at Dib, "YOU'RE a real _live __AliEN_ fast food CHEF!"

"…Yes?" Dib said, wondering if Dwicky had processed the conversation they had had about ZIM at _all_.

"And _this_!" Dwicky was now holding a spork. "Is a spork! An _aLiEn spork!_

"Just like _this_ is a-" 

"That's it," Dib said, throwing his arms up into the air, "I'm taking a break!"

There was just absolutely no way he was going to stay in here a MOMENT longer and listen to his old school counselor point out everything in the entire restaurant. It just wasn't going to happen.

He didn't even bother taking of his uniform, he just ran out of there. Honestly, _that_ guy had thought _he_ was insane?

Dib shook his head, before shuffling his way over to a bench near the entrance of Sloogorgh's. Even outside, he could still hear Dwicky's rambling.

"And THIS is a real, authentic, gelatinous blob! It's _green_!"

How great it was to know that a gelatinous blob was green.

The human sighed to himself, placing his head into his claws. This was frustrating. Really, it was. He hadn't accomplished _anything_ the entire time that he had been there! Which…really hadn't been that long, but that wasn't the point!

Plus, he was starting to think that making monies was more trouble than it was worth. If he had to deal with nutters like Dwicky every day, maybe it would just be better to go back to Earth and – and…

Go back to being hated and deemed insane?

...Nah, screw that.

He'd rather spend his life with a bunch of moronic aliens than a bunch of moronic _ignorant_ humans that refused to see the _truth_!

It was _right_ there in front of them! He practically shoved it into their faces and they still-

"And that's it for the Smizmar stocks. Next is – Wait, breaking NEWS!" A gigantic floating television droned. It had broken Dib's train of thought. Dully, he looked up at it. It was right across the way from Sloogorgh's. He didn't know how he didn't notice it before.

"There's been a…horrible…horrible snacking accident on the Massive," the news anchor said. There were several gasps from the crowd, but mostly there were cheers.

_The Massive?_ Dib thought. Wasn't that the gigantic spaceship that ZIM's rulers rode around in?

"The details aren't available, well, they are, but they're far too gruesome," the anchor continued, "The only thing 'known' is that the Tallests Red and Purple were _killed_ in the accident."

This announcement caused panic in every Irken near Dib. "OH MY TALLEST!" most of them cried.

The other aliens, however, smirked and yucked it up. That was one strike against the Irken empire.

"Now, I'm sure you all know what that means," the anchor said solemnly, looking downward at his news desk, apparently rather torn up about the entire thing.

Every Irken also lowered their heads, and nodded sadly.

"It's time for another… _WHO'S THE TALLEST?! _competition!" the anchor said, standing up as golden letters of "WHO'S THE TALLEST" lit up the entire television screen.

Everyone cheered. This confused Dib, deeply. What _exactly_ was going on here?

"That's right, folks!" the anchor said, smiling widely as though the two leaders of the Irken empire had not, in fact, died. "So gather the tallest Irkens you can find and bring them to this _address_!"

Large black letters covered the screen, reading: 10932 Irken Avenue, Irken Providence, Irken County, Irk.

Wait…what _was_ going on here? This entire trip had been one gigantic headache and now _this_ was happening? Was this some sort of game to them? Or -

"HEY! What about that guy!" Someone suddenly yelled, pointing at Dib with a long, claw-like finger.

"Yeah!" a female Irken assented, "He's the tallest Irken I've ever seen!"

"GET HIM!"

This was too much for Dib to process. He hadn't even been on this planet for a few hours and now he was being chased by Irkens who wanted to enter him in some sort of strange contest that decided who the Tallest was?

What was _wrong_ with these people?

Why did there need to be a competition if they just decided by who was tallest? It made no sense, and frankly he wasn't going to-

Someone suddenly grabbed him from behind. More people surrounded him in the next second.

Oh, right, he had forgotten to run.

Running would have been a good start.


	6. The NotReallyAGameShow Show

A/N: What? …Whaaaat? What is this? An update?

YES. Yes, it is.

Who thought this was ever going to be updated? Anyone? If you did, you get a cookie. Smash your head through the computer screen to retrieve it. I _promise_ it'll work.

Also, "phonily" is a _completely_ cromulant word. Do not deny it.

Enjoy this update that was a year an a half coming.

Standard Disclaimer: …Do I even need to say it anymore? I don't own ZIM.

--

"I can't believe the Tallest are gone," one Irken said to the other, antennae drooping at the mere thought.

"Hey…"

"I can't, either. The invasion just started and they're not going to be able to see it through!" another said.

"…Uh, hey?"

"Not to mention that all of those snacks that were lost…" There were mutterings of agreement.

"_Hello_?"

"They'll never be able to eat them…" At this statement, it almost appeared as though some of the Irkens in the crowd were going to cry.

"_Would you stop dragging me?!" _Dib finally yelled, looking up at the crowd that had jumped him earlier. For whatever reason, they _insisted_ upon dragging him. Needless to say, this was _very_ uncomfortable, especially considering that he was several feet taller than his captors and his head kept scraping the against the concrete.

…Alien…. alien concrete... concrete… whatever it was.

It didn't matter; it _hurt_.

The crowd jumped practically in unison, apparently not realizing what they were doing. Suddenly looking slightly panicked, they exchanged glances before falling over themselves to pick Dib up off of the ground.

A particularly determined Irken smacked away the competition before _literally_ picking him up. Briefly startled by the event, Dib stared at the small Irken for a moment. She was _half_ his size! And he had picked him up! _Half_!

The shock quickly wore off, however, replaced by the annoyance that had slowly been growing over the past several days. Scowling, Dib felt his false antennae flatten against his head. Which, of course, did _nothing_ to improve his mood.

"I _can_ walk, you know," he muttered.

"Oh… oh, no, no!" the Irken holding him said, shaking her (or… at least Dib _thought_ it was a her) head. "You're too tall to walk!" She said this as though it were completely and utterly obvious. Around her, there were nods of agreement.

"…What?" He was too _tall_ to walk? Were Irkens not meant to be this tall? Would their bones give out or… or what? Either way, he didn't _want_ to be carried everywhere. "No… really… My legs work fine."

To demonstrate, Dib wiggled his legs. This wiggling only seemed to confuse the group, though. "But… you're too tall…" the Irken under him repeated blankly.

"But…" Dib began to protest, but paused as he considered the situation. Their leaders were the Tallest, right? So… maybe 'too tall' meant 'too important'! "Yeah… that makes sense…" he answered himself.

…Wait… he was important?

"YES! He agrees with me!" the Irken beneath him shouted, before pointing to another beside her. "Not_ you_."

"Aw…" the Irken next to her pouted, "You're not nice."

Hang on… agree with what? What was he agreeing to? Had he agreed to something? No… no he hadn't! …He hadn't agreed to this! Which would explain why he was being _carried_ at the moment. "Hey… hey…" he began, before pausing, "Uh… you…" Another pause. "What's your name?"

"Me?" the female Irken squeaked happily. She did not wait for conformation. "I'm Mitt, sir!" Again, she gave a coy look to the rest of the group. _My name_, _not yours_, she mouthed, poking herself in the chest proudly.

"Okay, Mitt, wh- …Sir?" Looking confused by the term of respect, Dib stopped, before shaking it off. "Where are we _going_? What's going on? Where are you taking me? Huh? What about my ship? And my camera? And everything else?! Huh? Huh?" He questioned.

"We're going to Irk! Where else would we be going?" Mitt chirped, before abruptly looking horrified. "Not that I'm questioning you or anything!" She glanced around nervously, "I mean, you're so much taller than me! And… and I'm sure you have other qualities, too!"

Mitt paused, before coughing loudly into her hand. "You're going to the preliminaries!" she announced, giving Dib a thumbs up.

"Preliminaries of _what_?" Dib asked, but his question went unanswered as he was unceremoniously dumped into a ship. There was a hissing sound as the door shut behind him. Outside he saw Mitt was saying something and making wild jabbing motions at the sky, but he couldn't make it out.

Groaning, Dib leaned farther back into the seat. It was thick and plushy and he noticed that this entire ship was something like an Earthekin limo… Except that there was no driver; the controls were locked.

Only briefly wondering if the controls were headed for something horrible like… a star or something, Dib relaxed. Looking out the window, he noticed that he had already launched off of the planet of Foodcordia. Not that he was sad to see it behind him. His first, and hopefully _last_, foray into food preparation had not been… what was the word?

…Fun.

And, besides, wasn't this what he wanted all along? Dib had been heading to Irk, anyway. This way it was just less work for _him_. …He was getting sent to the preliminaries! …Whatever those were.

Placing his gloved claw on his cheek, Dib considered the meaning behind that. …Wait… oh… it was that contest; the one on that big screen outside of… ugh, Sloogorgh's. Of course! Wow, had he really considered that it could have been something else?

_Well, whatever. It's been a long week. Give me a break. _He thought, only vaguely considering why he was telling _himself_ to give himself a break.

So… 'Who's the Tallest'? What a stupid contest name. What, was it a game show or something? Honestly, using a _game show_ to pick their ruler? And height… of course… the latter was obvious.

"Wait!" Dib exclaimed aloud, "That means… if _I_ win then… then I'd be ruler of Irk! Er… well and its subsidiary planets…" His eyes widened at the thought. How many planets had Irk conquered? "Wow… I'd control half the universe!" Or… something around that… probably less.

The universe _was_ kinda big.

The notion made Dib's head hurt. It was impossible to think that he could _already_ have the opportunity to take over Irk and he hadn't even been _on_ it, yet! He was already closer to conquering ZIM's home world than ZIM was to Earth!

So, this way he could take over Irk _and_ save the Earth!

…Wait, was taking over Irk_ supposed_ to be one of his goals?

Dib blinked and stared forward for a moment.

Well… whatever.

He _told_ ZIM he'd rue the day he messed with _Earth_.

--

Floating through space (or, more accurately, being jet propelled through space) was, well… dull. Very, very dull. In particular if you were traveling through a mostly deserted area of the universe, as Dib was.

He was watching with disinterest as stars light years away barely seemed to move, considering which was worse: listening to himse – uh - his _ship_ for days on end or spending hours alone.

…What was going to _happen_ to his ship, anyway? Mitt hadn't answered him! And Dib _needed_ that ship for… for _stuff!_ But, then, if he won this contest _thing_ then he wouldn't need it anymore, would he?

"Nyeheh," Dib chuckled. An entire _empire_ would be his. Who needed one ship? …Even if it did have his personali-

"A-pa-_roaching_ Irk!" the onboard computer announced, sounding _excited_ for some reason.

"What? Really? But I didn't noti-" Dib began, but was cut off as there was a sudden pull on the ship followed by a bouncing motion. Hissing followed as the cockpit was opened.

"You will now be e-_ject-_ted in three seconds!" the computer shouted, beginning the countdown. Not wanting to be flung out of the ship, Dib scrambled out of it as quickly as he could.

"Tha-_ree_!" The number was followed by the seat cushion flying through the air.

"Uh, okay," Dib muttered, backing away from the ship awkwardly. His eyes widened as the area around him came into view.

This… was Irk? It was so… industrial looking. Red ships with the Irken insignia were everywhere. In fact, just the _Irken insignia_ was everywhere. Irkens were filing in and out of buildings, doing whatever tasks they were assigned.

Out in front of him was a large building, with a banner over the doorway that read: "Are _you_ the Tallest? …Probably not! But find out here, anyway!"

"I guess this is where I'm supposed to be," Dib stated to himself, but he didn't move. Eyes flickering to both sides, he continued quietly. "Well… I… guess… I'll go in now…"

Blankly, Dib took a step forward, and then another, looking around suspiciously. It didn't seem as though anyone was going to come out and attack him for impersonating an Irken...

_Neat! _

"Hey, you!" someone from inside the building called.

"What? Who? Me? Not me! Nothing!" Dib rambled off in one breath, getting ready to make a run for it.

"Huh?" the Irken blinked, "You're not here for the preliminaries?"

"Oh…" was Dib's response as he relaxed, "Wait… yes, I am."

"Then come on, we'll get you measured," the Irken said flatly, eyes half-lidded as Dib began to follow him.

The lobby of the building was enormous _and_ it was entirely packed with Irkens. The majority of them were in line to get tickets, or at least Dib assumed so, considering that one had just shouted: "Wheehooo! Just got mah ticket!"

A much smaller group, who also happened to be much _taller_, was being filed into an undersized room. This was where Dib was being directed.

"In there," the Irken pointed toward the door sharply. Following the path to the door, Dib waited as the Irken ahead of him was measured. After a moment, a red light flashed and the Irken disappeared.

Frowning at what could have possibly happened to the Irken, Dib hesitantly stood in the place where he was to be measured. Behind him, a measuring stick came down. It was like one of those things you saw at a doctor's office.

…_This_ was the height of technology?

Soon, it came down, and was pressed uncomfortably down on his head. _Who_ was measuring him, anyway?

_Someone_ must have been, though, for after another moment, there was a flash of green in the room and a sensation of falling through a trap door. Which, as Dib looked upwards, he realized that he _was_.

Before Dib had time to consider what a sad, sad, smoke-and-mirrors trick that was, he hit the ground with a small thump. Wincing, he shook his head, opening one of them slightly. It was blinded by white light as stage lamps were lit.

"Now, let's meet our contestants!"

Pulling himself to a stand, and hearing some bones pop back into place, Dib's eyes flickered to either side of him. There were two other Irkens just about as tall as he was on either side of him. He didn't get much of a chance to think about that, however, as another Irken made his way up to them.

For lack of a better word, he looked like a corny game show host with a smarmy smile plastered on his face. "And who are you?" he asked the Irken to his left, holding up a almost ludicrously thin microphone up to his mouth.

"Hi!" the tall Irken yelled, waving his hand at the audience that Dib had not noticed before.

"Yes… hello," the host said, smile flickering slightly, "But what's your name?"

"…Hi," the Irken whispered giddily, holding his claws up to his mouth to keep himself from giggling.

"…Your _name_!"

"_Hi_!" the Irken now insisted, starting to look a bit irritated. He paused, before thinking to add something. "That's my name, Hi."

"Oh, er, yes," the host stumbled over his words, before clearing his throat and composing himself again. "And what is your assigned duty?"

"I work in communications!"

The host was silent for a moment, before grumbling, "Yes… I'm sure you're excellent at what you do." Shaking his head, the host put a smile back on his face before continuing over to the next contestant, Dib.

"So, what's _your _name?" the host questioned, as though _daring_ his name to be some sort of greeting.

"Uh… my name's Dib," Dib answered nervously, looking almost as though he was about to have a myocardial infarction… er, heart attack.

"Wonderful!" the host exclaimed, looking relieved that _this_ contestant, at least, had a slightly normal name. "And what do you do?"

"I…" Dib began, breathing deeply. What did he do? He was obviously supposed to have an assigned job and… oh. "I work in fast food preparation."

The entire crowd gasped, and the host's mouth was slightly agape.

"_Why_?" the host demanded, as though Dib had just greatly insulted him.

"I, uh, _used_ to be a… er… military general?" the human lied through his teeth, thinking quickly back to what he had told ZIM earlier. "But… my… pak's memory unit was damaged during the… big… lazar… _war_ and… I… couldn't find my way back to Irk to get it repaired?"

The entire crowd was silent, staring at Dib as though they were incapable of doing anything else.

"You… poor man," the host sniffled, patting Dib on the shoulder before continuing toward the last contestant.

"And who are you?" the question was posed again, although with much less interest than before. The host kept sneaking glances back toward Dib, shaking his head sadly. The audience seemed to be doing the same thing.

"So brave!" somebody in the audience whispered.

"I'm Stop-PI," the Irken said in a clearly female voice. "I work on planet Shmorgle studying the native life-forms to be used in battle." At this, she held up something that looked almost like a turtle. For some reason it was hanging from her neck on a chain.

"Yes, yes, that's great," the host shooed the answer away with his hand. "Now," he began, looking at the audience excitedly, "Who's the Tallest?!"

Frenzied chattering exploded in the audience as they discussed this most important of questions. "But before that, the contestants will take the audience's questions."

Three fingered hands abruptly shot up across the audience in waves. "Ooh, me, me! Pick me!"

"Yes, the obnoxious Irken in the front row," the host said, pointing to said Irken.

"Um, hey, Dib," the Irken said slowly, "Uh, if you were to be the Tallest what could you promise for all of Irk, huh?"

Quirking a brow at the question, Dib considered it. "I… promise I'd be tall?"

"Pssh, he says that _now_," the Irken said jadedly to the person sitting next to him, as he crossed his arms. The rest of the crowd seemed satisfied with the response, however, and cheered at it.

"Terrific," the host deemed phonily, "Next question!"

"Oh, me! I have a question for… hm… Hi," someone in the crowd said, "What's your opinion on snacks?"

"That's a very good question!" was Hi's response, before he waved at the audience again.

"Next question!"

"But…"

"Oooh! I have one for Dib!" somebody screamed.

"Er, alright," Dib agreed, looking somewhat confused by this whole affair.

"What do you think about Operation Impending Doom II?!" the audience member screeched.

"Operation Impending Doom II?" Dib asked blankly, wondering what on Earth, er, _Irk_ that could be. Well… he had already gotten this far through lying, what was one more? "It's… great?"

There was another eruption of applause at this answer, and shouts of approval. "DIB ROCKS!"

"Okaaay! That wraps up the chat with the audience! Now -"

"But, wait! Nobody asked me any questions," Stop-PI pointed out softly.

"_Now"_ the host continued as though he hadn't heard a thing, "It's time to cast your vote! Which one of these three is the Tallest!?" He grinned cheekily at the cameras, which Dib noticed for the first time. How far was this silly game show being broadcast? …Was this even a game show? They hadn't played any games… it was more like an interview… ish thing.

"And, remember, your vote counts!"

However, as Dib looked up at the television screens hovering over the crowd, he noticed a large message at the bottom of the screen.

Note: Your opinion may not actually matter unless you are Irken and 4'5" or taller.


End file.
